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TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4

Amos 14 Apr 00 - 05:19 PM
Barky 14 Apr 00 - 05:53 PM
Amos 15 Apr 00 - 12:10 PM
Mbo 15 Apr 00 - 07:55 PM
catspaw49 15 Apr 00 - 09:03 PM
Amos 15 Apr 00 - 10:15 PM
JenEllen 15 Apr 00 - 11:34 PM
katlaughing 15 Apr 00 - 11:48 PM
Amos 16 Apr 00 - 12:49 AM
JenEllen 16 Apr 00 - 12:46 PM
katlaughing 16 Apr 00 - 12:52 PM
Peter T. 16 Apr 00 - 01:55 PM
katlaughing 16 Apr 00 - 02:21 PM
Caitrin 16 Apr 00 - 03:11 PM
JenEllen 16 Apr 00 - 10:36 PM
Lonesome EJ 16 Apr 00 - 11:37 PM
katlaughing 17 Apr 00 - 12:17 AM
Amos 17 Apr 00 - 09:00 AM
catspaw49 17 Apr 00 - 09:41 AM
MMario 17 Apr 00 - 09:50 AM
GUEST,Barky @ mom's work 17 Apr 00 - 10:13 AM
GUEST,Mbo_at_ECU 17 Apr 00 - 10:16 AM
MMario 17 Apr 00 - 10:16 AM
GUEST,Barky @ mom's work 17 Apr 00 - 10:53 AM
Peter T. 17 Apr 00 - 11:00 AM
Mbo 17 Apr 00 - 11:15 AM
katlaughing 17 Apr 00 - 11:16 AM
catspaw49 17 Apr 00 - 11:21 AM
Mbo 17 Apr 00 - 11:27 AM
Barky 17 Apr 00 - 12:01 PM
Amos 17 Apr 00 - 01:06 PM
Lonesome EJ 17 Apr 00 - 01:07 PM
Lonesome EJ 17 Apr 00 - 01:48 PM
Caitrin 17 Apr 00 - 01:54 PM
Peter T. 17 Apr 00 - 02:30 PM
Amos 17 Apr 00 - 02:44 PM
MMario 17 Apr 00 - 02:47 PM
Peter T. 17 Apr 00 - 02:48 PM
Amos 17 Apr 00 - 02:48 PM
Amos 17 Apr 00 - 03:15 PM
Lonesome EJ 17 Apr 00 - 03:37 PM
Amos 17 Apr 00 - 07:17 PM
Barky 17 Apr 00 - 10:42 PM
Mbo 17 Apr 00 - 11:51 PM
katlaughing 18 Apr 00 - 12:17 AM
Lonesome EJ 18 Apr 00 - 01:27 AM
katlaughing 18 Apr 00 - 03:03 AM
Mbo 18 Apr 00 - 08:42 AM
Amos 18 Apr 00 - 09:02 AM
Caitrin 18 Apr 00 - 09:47 AM
Amos 18 Apr 00 - 10:11 AM
GUEST,THE RED HERON 18 Apr 00 - 10:48 AM
Amos 18 Apr 00 - 11:02 AM
GUEST,THE RED HERON 18 Apr 00 - 11:12 AM
Amos 18 Apr 00 - 11:28 AM
GUEST,THE RED HERON 18 Apr 00 - 11:38 AM
Caitrin 18 Apr 00 - 11:48 AM
Amos 18 Apr 00 - 11:52 AM
GUEST,JenEllen 18 Apr 00 - 12:46 PM
Charley Noble 18 Dec 15 - 10:27 AM
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Subject: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 14 Apr 00 - 05:19 PM

 
This is Installment Four of the Albert Hansell's strange and complex story.
Part One can be found here. Part Two can  be found here.
Part Three Can be found here.

The tension is mounting and the outcome uncertain...
 
 
 
 


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Barky
Date: 14 Apr 00 - 05:53 PM

Back on the bank, Miss Montesquiue spluttered, coughed, then sat up. "Now what in th' worl' am Ah doin' heah? All Ah remembuh' is flyin'. What's that supposed to mean, when ya have a flyin' dream?" All of a sudden, and together, she noticed the other people *Caitrin, Huck and JIM, not the King and the Duke!*, AND remembered what happened. Therefore, she had a rather hard time of it while trying to keep her composure, for the sake of the others, and acting nice! "How do ya' do?" She asked Jim and Huck. "Ah'm Miss Bahky Montesquiue, mah fathah's daughtah', an' this handsome young gennleman is Slick Philly Matt. How do ya' do?" She repeated in her nervousness. Little did she know how well they ACTUALLY did... (sorry... couldn't think of anything cool...)

~Barky


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 15 Apr 00 - 12:10 PM

Apologies for the time-warps in the last few minutes to date-- something about the black-hole fueled matrix distortion lift drives in the Dora's engines. I am waiting for some genius out there to handle the remainign mysteries in this plot.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Mbo
Date: 15 Apr 00 - 07:55 PM

"YES!!!!" Was the cry as Huck, Jim, Jeremy, Slick, and Miss Barky joined in a 19th-century equivalent of a high five. They scrambled to the wreck of the Mary Greene and claimed one of the Mary's big lifeboats for their own. Huck happened to have a bucket of white wash on his raft, given to him from his pal Tom...
Slick Philly picked a rather large cattail, and since he had a bit of the artist in him, was chosen to paint the new name of their boat. In a somewhat sloppy hand, Slick wrote "Sweet Angel" about the prow. Slick had a reason for naming it so...
He then joined the others in moving Huck & Jim's paraphenalia from the raft to the Sweet Angel. Jeremy and Huck stood at the ready with their oars, as Slick Philly aided Miss Barky onboard. Jim, with the pole from the raft, stood in the gunwhale and pushed them off. Now it was their goal to catch up with the Albert Hansell at all costs....

--Slick Philly Matt


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: catspaw49
Date: 15 Apr 00 - 09:03 PM

The "Mary Greene"???????? What the fock is the "Mary Greene"???????? Fer chrissakes...............oy.................

OK...........................................

Catspaugh had seen it all now. The previous night and this day had brought home so many revelations of his past and forebodings of his future........so many bizarre images he had seen, how could there be more. Yet they seemed to keep coming at him in a kaleidoscope of terminal weirdness. The voices behind the glass in that strange room amongst the stars, the flaming kestrel in the Nomex suit, the Mojo woman with the superoars in the rowboat..........Much too much for his simple tastes for bootlegging. Only the race with the "Maid" had brought him back to a reality of sorts, but now THIS.......The strange and hovering mechanical bird which hung in the air above the "Hansell" pushed him over the threshold of sanity and now the mystifying appearance of ANOTHER steamer which had not been there seconds before, slammed shut the door, forever closing him off from reality.

He called to a deckhand to bring the tall ladder used for ascending the stacks in front of the pilothouse. The hand secured it in place and looked up to see the black smoke and sparks escewing from them and wondered what the captain had in mind. Slowly Catspaugh climbed the ladder and as he stood in the smoke and flame blowing out from the bowels of the ship, he withdrew the Navy Colt from his belt and with an awkward thrust, perched himself atop the starboard stack. Firing three shots in rapid succession, Catspaugh ripped a monstrous fart which quickly ignited and blew him several thousand feet in the air on a western trajectory.

He awoke to a kindly voice with a British accent that he recognized as his old friend Roger the Skiffler, his chief administrative assistant at hr "Neil Young Center for the Terminally Screwed."

"Its OK Spaw old mate....Just a nightmare. Cleigh's right here on the nightstand and your tiple is here next to you. Nothing to worry about my friend, just a nightmare. Now try and relax and get back to sleep. I'll play you a bit of a tune on my kazoo and another on my trusty noseflute. It'll be alright old chum, the Skiffler says so."

He breathed deeply and rolled to his left, stuffing the pillow a bit tighter beneath his neck and curling his left arm under his head. He stared at the book on the edge of his bed......."Life on the Mississippi".......He swung his right arm out and knocked it to the floor with a mixture of fear and disgust. He glanced across at Cleigh, grinning at him from the top of the nightstand and then noticed the beautiful model of the Pennsylvania Railroad M-1 which his father had given him. It had been the last steamer to operate on the Panhandle Division and the last one his Dad had fired before the diesels took over completely. There was romance to the railroads in those days he thought as he drifted off to sleep.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 15 Apr 00 - 10:15 PM

The Gambler awoke with a start, alone in his cabin on the Albert Hansell. He had had a terrible dream, involving being transported to a far future civiliazation, finding himself in some kind of hospice -- perhaps a Bedlam sort of place -- and being assigned to serve as drynurse to an old fat guy with a clay animal stuck in his mouth. He shuddered and reached for the small flask on the bedside stand. He reflected on the amazing speed the Hansell was making good, and in the back of his mind wondered if land-engines would ever do as well. Anything seemed possible after the strange conversations he had had in the last few days. He took a large swallow of Tenessee whiskey, and rolled back to sleep, his last sight being the rolling stars outside his porthole, and a brief glimmer of an arcing trail of vaporous flame across the night sky.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: JenEllen
Date: 15 Apr 00 - 11:34 PM

The amazing speed the Hansell was making????? HOW long have we been on this trip? 17-odd days?? And still no sign of New Orleans? (And he wonders how I can row so fast!! *bg*)
~Mojo


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: katlaughing
Date: 15 Apr 00 - 11:48 PM

Miss Sara Belle Fontaine sipped her mint julep. Learning the mojo woman was her sister had given her a sense of completion; a belonging she'd never felt really when being raised in the bosom of the Judge's family, for all that she was so grateful to them.

She knew her destiny was opening before her; a destiny filled with infinite possibilties. But, she also knew the lingering effects of the past few days' whirlwind of happenings, strange sights, and mindbending experiences had left her drained and vulnerable to sinking into the languid oblivion the mint julep promised. With that in mind, and with the blessing and urging of her wisesister, shebravely clicked the heels of her newly acquired ruby red slippers together and thought, "There's no place like EnWhyCeeEffTeeTeeEss, there's no place like EnWhyCeeEffTeeTeeEss, there's no place like....." And, in a thrice, she found herself tucked up cozy-like in a soft, downy bed, surrounded by soft pastel walls, with another occupant in the bed next to her, slightly odiferous, but with a beatific smile on his sliumbering face, a kindly attendant sitting beside him, intoning a mantra of "It'll be alright old chum, the Skiffler says so." And, as she closed eyes in a sigh of contentment, somehow, Miss Sara Belle just knew it would be alright.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 16 Apr 00 - 12:49 AM

That's "making good", Jen -- a term describing real motion over ground in the current measurement; besides, there was an awful lot of dead air in 17 days. Prolly only a few days/nights on the Hansell, but I lost count. And just because all the Herons got stranded on a sandbar with their sternwheel shredded by the Deckhand's crude device, you think them inter-epoch warriors from the Nth dimension are gonna be stopped by anything as primitive as a Barlow knife? Well, I guess not!! :>)


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: JenEllen
Date: 16 Apr 00 - 12:46 PM

LOL Amos! Then just HOW do the Herons meet their timely end with everyone shagging off to the NYC? The Captain is gone, so we canna blow them up with methane. Kung-fu Black Chat snuggled in with said Captain, so we are out one wicked she-thing as well. Where are the young ones? And more importantly...who is steering? :)
~Elle


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: katlaughing
Date: 16 Apr 00 - 12:52 PM

And here I thought Black Chat had taken care of them a while back?! Hummmph! If them young'uns ever get done spoonin' maybe they'll come do some arse-kicking. Sheesh! Kids, today!**BSEG**


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Peter T.
Date: 16 Apr 00 - 01:55 PM

"Owwwwchh", moaned Cassius de Mornay, as he felt a large bump on the back of his neck, which did not improve his phrenological framework.

"Ah, welcome back, Mr. De Mornay. You have been gone some time, if I may use such an expression. 'I could count myself the king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams', as your beloved Bard relates." An elegant, gray-haired figure, cloaked in a dark red gown, smiled at the dishevelled figure of the long lost actor. De Mornay lay semi-recumbent on a white divan encircled by a slightly humming force field.

De Mornay scowled: "He also said, 'O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!!'"

The red cloaked figure, whose features were blurred by shadows, nevertheless could be seen to be smiling. Around the great white room, a vortex of blue and green water churned in infinite patterns, bubbling and frothing.

"Well, de Mornay, this little charade is about over. I do admire you and your -- can I call them colleagues -- in the pathetic 19th century, with their steamboats and their absurd individualities. But they, and you in particular, have come somewhat too close to the centre of things --"

"The Great White Wall, you mean?"

"Mr. De Mornay, Mr. De Mornay. Please do not interrupt. You will be seriously dead soon enough, without any medallions and playacting to help you, and I thought you might like some inkling of what is going on."

"You aren't Lazarus Long, are you?" said de Mornay.

This struck the red cloaked figure as immensely amusing. He laughed a crooked laugh, and his face almost lifted out of the shadows.

"No, Mr. De Mornay, I am not that insignificant, if useful, fool. As you surmise, perhaps, I AM THE RED HERON!!" He shrugged his cloak. "For what it is worth.... But I do have some relationship to, well, let us say --" And here he waved a hand, and out of the virtual whirlpool, two figures, young women with red hair, appeared, holding out their arms in a gesture of helpless beseeching.

"These are the children of Long's indiscreet dalliance with a woman of strange powers that I am holding, Oh let us say, holding in reserve. I bore them away from him some years ago, and replaced them through psuedoreplication with the somewhat bumptious females who he believes to be his offspring. It is a sign of what a fool he is that he believes that the daughters of such a woman would be -- what did they call them in the late 20th century? -- ah yes, ditzbrains."

De Mornay suddenly felt very alone.

The red cloaked figure snapped his fingers, and the apparition disappeared. "Now then. Mr. De Mornay, what have you learned about what is going on?"

De Mornay brooded for a moment, then shrugged. "When I was struck in that inexpert manner, I was sending a message to the great Chat Noir through a complex messaging system linked, or perhaps creating, the past. I had had enough time previously to survey the enterprise, and had deduced that this was probably the heart of the League of the Mudcat, or the League of the Red Heron, and that whichever it was -- perhaps both? -- it was seemingly capable, like some cosmic playwright, of entering, and even changing the course of history."

The red cloaked figure sat back in his throne that eerily hovered several inches off the ground. "I congratulate you, de Mornay. You are half right, which is quite striking in its own way. But the truth is much more complex and interesting, and the reason why you and your colleagues have caused me such soon to be ended trouble." He reached forward, waved his arm, and Wagnerian music began to play.

"Now, Mr. de Mornay, this will mean nothing to you, but indulge me. I like to play with my -- thoughts from time to time. I don't often have an audience, unlike you. A brief scientific flurry. In the late 20th century a curious phenomenon was discovered, known colloquially as the "butterfly effect", that is, in the world about us, very slight changes, perturbations, in certain aspects of the world, can have significant consequences. The death of a President, for example. Or the fall of a leaf precipitating a hurricane a continent away. This phenomenon, known more and more intimately to later centuries, became of singular importance when time travel was discovered, because it meant that no interference in the past could be tolerated, unless by a suicidal madman, since it could not be predicted if such interference might at the least eliminate the perpetrator of the interference himself, or at a larger scale, the sequence of events that led to the discovery of time travel itself.

De Mornay protested: "You must then be such a madman, as you and your demons have been interfering recklessly for some time!!!"

The redcloaked figure smiled. "I am a madman, de Mornay, but not suicidal. Some time ago, in my time -- it matters not when that time is -- following a somewhat apocalyptic struggle between the League of the Mudcat and my own League, I was able to Inheronate the complete computing resources of the galactic Interweb for a few brief seconds. During that time, I learned something of incalculable usefulness. The phenomenon of clumpiness -- a clumpy term, but appropriate. What this means is that although there is potential for cascading change from inappropriate interference, there is also clumpiness -- stable islands of moderate changelessness -- the sort of thing that prevents hurricanes over deserts, in spite of innumerable butterflies flapping their wings. If these can be identified -- and I have identified many of them -- much of the past can be interfered with, even altered, safely (or at least safely for one's own purposes). It is is this that has allowed the League of the Red Heron to move into the past almost unchallenged."

"Almost?"

The red cloaked figure sighed with the heaviness of the burden of evil upon him. "There is one problem. We have been followed into the past by the interfering League of the Mudcat, curse them down the centuries. We have both learned however that there is an island of necessary moderate stability in your time, located somewhere upon the Albert Hansell, which, if interfered with, will cause quite predictable havoc in a later period. It is tied up with the Last Medallion, whose wherabouts are still unknown."

Although de Mornay was on the brink of death, he was getting somewhat irritated. "Yes, yes, but what is that predictable havoc?"

"Ah," replied the Great Red Heron himself, "This is what frightens me, my minions, and the League of the Mudcat as well (curse their souls)! For if the interference succeeds, as it seems to be doing at the moment, the sequence of events will lead to the elimination of all possibility for the original seed of both our Leagues, good and evil alike. This possibility was to have evaporated with the success of the Maid of the Ohio in passing the Albert Hansell, but something went awry -- including the loss of those pasteboard Red Herons, insignificant pawns, fodder against the likes of the Chat Noir. But all this has made the next moment of interference even more likely, and the dissolving of all more certain. Unknown to those aboard the Albert Hansell -- and unkown to those who are manipulating them in the future -- it is these 19th century puppets who hold the fate of all those who would later frequent the Mudcat in their hands! It is the creations who will determine the fate of their creators!!!!!"

He paused.

"But that means --!!" said de Mornay, a look of horror crossing his brow, one which he had delivered many times, but had never used to quite such effect before.

The Red Heron reached up and pulled back his cowl. "Yes, you fool, it is I!!!!!"

De Mornay sat thunderstruck. "But she is so helpless, as are they all -- except, except!"And he smiled again. "And that is what will doom you, Red Heron. You cannot win, especially now that I see who you really are!!!!"

"Enough intertemporal chitchat, Mr. De Mornay, I am boring you, and you are boring me, and I know how actors despise amateur theatricals. I also know how many times you have practiced dying before; so, what can I say, welcome to opening night!"

And a large void opened up beneath de Mornay, a vast humming sound was heard, and he was whisked away into a pitch blackness, somewhat darker and more deadly in effect than that unfortunate night in Milwaukee, when somewhat confused owing to a miscue, Cassius de Mornay had leapt into the grave to embrace Ophelia, only to find himself pitched forward into the spacious orchestra pit!!!!!


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: katlaughing
Date: 16 Apr 00 - 02:21 PM

Eerie, manical laughter is heard in the background, slowly building to a crescendo, dying away to a last sinister whisper of madness....

Bravo, Peter! Well done! Uh, is Waylon Heron any relation? Watch it!**BG**


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Caitrin
Date: 16 Apr 00 - 03:11 PM

Dangit, Peter!!!! You just messed with my ideas in a big big big way. Oh, well...I can handle it.

"Ditzbrains!?!"
The Red Heron turned to the indignant cry to find a blaster leveled at his head. As he looked a bit further up, he saw a self-satisfied grin on the faces of the two young red-headed women, one of whom was holding the blaster.
"I wouldn't suggest moving, Mister. My sister's an excellent shot." Laz said.
"But how did you...?" he began to ask.
"Oh, puh-leeze." Lor scoffed. "Did you honestly think we couldn't switch places with our doubles? You apparently don't know much about time theory. We just went back a little before this happened. You missed it because you were too busy insulting us." Lor nodded quickly to her sister. "See if you can do anything about Mr. De Mornay."
The Red Heron still stood with the blaster aimed squarely at his forehead. "Now, would you like to give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you?"


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: JenEllen
Date: 16 Apr 00 - 10:36 PM

Bravo, Peter!


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 16 Apr 00 - 11:37 PM

For seconds that unfurled like centuries, DeMornay clutched deparately for a handhold on the void that is space. He had held his breath nearly as long as he had during the submersed handcuff escape he had executed in the East River during a brief but notable flirtation with a career in Magic, and the satrs that spread out in infinite abundance were beginning to blur into the surprising mirage of a huge silver cigar-shaped object. With his last focussed vision, he watched a huge light emit from the belly of the object and cast itself directly at him. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was sitting in a large gallery whose interior was quite sumptious, and whose windows peered out into the vastness which he had somehow escaped."Whiskey?" a voice said. He turned to stare at the profile of a figure dressed in a uniform of a gold and blue metallic material who was pouring two glasses full from a large snifter. The figure turned so that the soft glow of the cabin lights illuminated his face and the leaping catfish insignia on his collar. "We meet again, Sir. Robert E Leej, Commander, League of the Mudcat Time Fleet." He handed DeMornay his drink." This is the Flagship The Neil Young. Welcome aboard."


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: katlaughing
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 12:17 AM

Bravo, LeeJ!!


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 09:00 AM

LOL! You guys are positively UNBEATABLE! A Red Heron!!! A Cosmic Time Fleet! Wheeoooo! And to think this started out as a steamboat race!


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: catspaw49
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 09:41 AM

Actually Amos, it didn't. We're all getting older and the memories are going, but about 3 weeks ago, this damn thing started out as just another Tavern thread with what would hopefully be a splash more creativity than getting "Fugged." My simple thoughts were to maybe throw in a few little subplots and go through the Delta country with a few bluesy things and then have crazy ol' Bert blow-up or somehow sink his namesake by accident and we'd all do the next Tavern in New Orleans........Goes to show what a simpleminded asshole I am! At something over 300 posts and about 3 weeks we not only missed the blues, but we never made New Orleans!!!

We not only had subplots to the subplots, but we had subplots to the sublots to the subplots to the subplots to the subplots to the subplots to the subplots to the subplots!!!! Time warps, mysteries, character transmogrifications, dream sequences, paradigms of current 'Cat problems, reincarnations............not to mention the FLAMING KESTREL.

To all of those who believe that there is nothing creative in the Tavern threads, may I suggest you read this from beginning to end. As an exercise in group writing with no intercommunication and unbelievable creativity and imagination, this thread(s) stands alone. Others are great, but this one is quite unique.

Spaw


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: MMario
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 09:50 AM

Does this mean I can stop breaking up the deck planking to stoke the boilers?


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: GUEST,Barky @ mom's work
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 10:13 AM

Uh oh.... Did we miss New Orleans? Do you even KNOW what it MEANS to miss New Orleans?


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: GUEST,Mbo_at_ECU
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 10:16 AM

I miss the one I love more than I miss New Orleans...

--Mbo


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: MMario
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 10:16 AM

you're adrift in the gulf stream? which means you'll probably float north, then across the Northern Atlantic and wash ashore on the coast of Ireland....


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: GUEST,Barky @ mom's work
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 10:53 AM

;)

~Barky


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Peter T.
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 11:00 AM

"For this relief much thanks, Commander," replied Cassius de Mornay, "Even I had despaired of extricating myself from that closing curtain." He waved at the panorama of space. "It was a jocund day that first you and I exchanged burning phrases from the god of my idolatry in that rustic tavern -- or is it taverns?

"Taverns, and theatres, and the theatre of war, de Mornay," mused Commander Leej, "in the dark backward and abysm of time." He cradled his glass. "We have not much time, even in this space between time, de Mornay. I need to know what you have learned."

De Mornay spoke, as usual, somewhat overlong, but as concisely as he possibly could under constraint of time, approximately as he had during the unrolling of the Salic Law speech from Henry V on the occasion in Sacramento when he happened to notice that a backdrop was ablaze. He told Commander Leej almost all, leaving out only one detail -- the fact that the Great Red Heron, in his arrogance, had allowed the seemingly doomed de Mornay to discover his identity. He knew, as Commander Leej did not, that the fate of a much loved woman rested on the concealment, till the proper moment, of that information.

"Well, de Mornay, you have certainly gummed up some of their works. I had no idea that Stonewall Delacroix and the Mojo Woman were so critical to this enterprise. And the Trader -- what fools we were. So it comes down to Miss Fontaine and Miss Montesquieu, as we always assumed it would. Of course you missed the clue in the Stephen Foster song, but even the Heron's Inheronation was unable to connect that thread." They drank deeply again. De Mornay smiled briefly, and said:

"But enough, Commander, enough. We must, must we not, return to the deck of the Albert Hansell aboard this vessel, named I am sure, after some heroic figure of a future time?"

A dark look came over the shining face of the Commander of the League of the Mudcat Fleet. "Well, de Mornay, it is somewhat awkward for me to say this, but I am afraid that is impossible. It is more than awkward. I am afraid that, in that period, how can I soften this blow, you are in fact, dead. That was the price we, you, had to pay to break the momentary, but almost fatal hold of the Heron on that thread of history. You cannot go there again. It, and everyone there, is closed to you now."

To his credit, de Mornay said nothing. And to his, Commander Leej also sat quietly.

After a few moments, de Mornay turned his head towards the vast tapestry of stars which suddenly began to shimmer in his sight, though they were in deep space. He sat for a few seconds more, and inexplicably his thoughts went back to that terrible night in Ford's Theatre, when, long after the hideous excitement had passed, the theatre, tainted and scuffed, was finally emptied of everyone for the nightime. He and Catspaugh had walked out onto the empty stage, looked out at the empty house, and stood silently for a time. Then Catspaugh had said, solemnly, I can't be in one of these again. I have done with the theatre even before I really got started. I think I am going west, going back to Ohio, back to the river." And he had gone. And de Mornay was left alone in that theatre. In the theatre. But it had been wonderful after. The great nation, coming to life again, flush from living drama, true heroics, and thirsting for the life of the theatre. The places he had seen; the sounds, the grand life, the tumbles in tiny dressing rooms, the glittering tours of distant lands. And the mornings in the new towns, the excitement of bringing excitement....Gone the pomp and circumstance of all those lost imagined empires; gone all those bright mornings and (and here a new thought came to him) -- gone the bright eyes of --

And without making a further movement, without any theatricality, tears began to run down the old actor's face, and he made no move to wipe them away.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Mbo
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 11:15 AM

Well here's some blues for ya (happy blues):

I'm as happy as a King,
Feelin' good n' everything
I'm just like a bird in Spring,
Got to let it out.
It's my sweetie, can't you guess?
Wild about her, I'll confess!
Does she love me?
Oh my, yes!
That's just why I shout:

Everybody loves my baby,
But my baby don't love nobody but me!
Nobody but me
Everybody wants my baby,
But my baby don't want nobody but me
That's plain to see!

She is my sweet patootie and I am her lovin' man,
I know how to do my duty,
She loves me like no other can
That's why:

Everybody loves my baby,
But my baby don't love nobody but me
Nobody but me!
Everybody loves my baby,
But my baby don't love nobody but me,
Nobody but me!
Everybody wants my baby,
But my baby don't want nobody but me
That's plain to see

She's got a form like Venus, honest, I ain't talkin' Greek!
No one can come between us,
She's my Sheba, I'm her Sheik
That's why:

Everybody loves my baby,
But my baby don't love nobody but me,
Nobody but me!


--Mbo


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: katlaughing
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 11:16 AM

Ah, gawds and gawddess, the front of m'shirt is soppin' wet wid tears, ya aud sod! heavy sigh We cannae go there agane? But, wots' ta become o'Miss Montesquieu and Miss Fontaine!? Ah, me.sobbing quietly into a lace hanky...drifting off stage left....


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: catspaw49
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 11:21 AM

But where can we go gang?........Shall we be transported into a time when.........well, what's your fancy?

Well done Peter (and all)

Spaw


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Mbo
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 11:27 AM

Miss Montenquieu? I'll tell ye what's become of her! She's with Slick, Jeremy, Huck, and Jim, and they're TRYING to catch up with Tom, Becky, and Mark Twain's airship so they can go and chase down Halley's Comet! "I can see the papers now...'Aeronort Tom Sawyer saves friends from old man's death wish!'" "Tom, that's aeroNAUT..."

--Mbo


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Barky
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 12:01 PM

YOu guys are too funny! Aeronort.... LOL! Anyway... back to the story at hand.....
Miss Montesquiue picked up the oars, and heaved to with a vengance. THIS is what she'd been working all those hours in the Albert Hansel's weight room for. Yes, THIS and NOTHING else...... A catfish jumped out of the water next to the boat, and landed with a plop back in the water. Miss Montesquiue screamed lightly and once again passed out.

~Barky


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 01:06 PM

"Dang, Jim, she done give in to them vapors again!", Jeremey commented, taking over Miss Montesquieu's oar. "Wal, it's the humidity I reckon. Plus that was kinda odd, that catfish jumpin' like that. Never seen 'em come up like thet before! See whtcha kin do to revive her, wontcha?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his thwart-planked seat, concentrating on pushing the crude lifeboat from the misnamed riverboat harder. It was plain they would never catch the Albert Hansell this way. The late morning sun was already taking its toll on their energies. But at the same time he felt a bond to his new friends, and especially grateful to Huck and Jim who had sacrificed their raft -- their home -- to help destroy the Heron's boat. He laughed, remembering the sight of all thos epoorly disguised time-mongers in their citified dress leaping into the shallows of the Cold Creek delta, wading to land.

As they rounded a narrow bend, he saw a lovely pasture which came sloping gently down to the river on the western bank, and in it, a herd of beautiful horses -- two-year olds, fillies, a few spring colts staggering, and several full-grown handsome chestnut stallions trotting around the outside of the herd, watching over their families. He gazed at them thoughtfully.

"Hey boys," he said. "I got me an idee how we kin catch that steamboat after all!"

Late that afternoon, the Mate stood watch as the Hansell crossed into the borderlands of Kentucky and approached a narrow series of switchback-like bends. His eyes peeled sharply for bars and snags, he thought briefly of the Captain's strange and apparently fatal dance on the smolkestack and wished he was back on the bridge, watching the river with him. Ahead, the narrowing river passed a wide mud bank with a crude wooden landing platform built into it, and his eyes widened as he detected, emerging from the trees on the western bank, a series of galloping horses with strange characters -- one, then three, then five -- driving them at a desperate breakneck run toward the landing platform. His jaw dropped...that was his lost Deckhand on the chestnut stallion, the mount's sides white with sweat and the deckhand lashing him for every ounce of speed he had in him--and there was that young gambler passenger and that pretty Miss Montesquieu riding hell-for-leather behind him!! And who were those raggle taggle young folks coming up behind on the yearlings?

Dave TAM rang down for Slow Astern, and steered the giant riverboat into the landing stage, hollering for hands to man the breastlines and make her fast. The strange cavalcade of youth came panting and heaving to a stop at the top of the bank, and one by one the bizarre collection of characters freed their mounts, sending them homeward with affectionate slaps to the withers, and scrambled down the muddy bank to the landing stage, and finally back on board the Albert Hansell.

The Mate just shook his head.

"Wal, Jeremy, I'm right glad you survived. Right glad! Now, git up here on the bridge - we still have time to make -- and start explaining yoreself!".


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 01:07 PM

Commander Leej placed his hand gently on the shoulder of the actor. "There is a way, my friend, to evade the reaper's clutches. We have developed the technology to transport one in your situation to any destination in the past that preceded his demise. And he will arrive at that location with all current sensibilities intact, save one: he will retain no memory of his previous existence. You amy, if you desire, return to your childhood. Or to your first love. Or to the moment of your greatest triumph on the stage. Know this: If you choose to re-enter a previous phase of your own life, your ultimate terminus shall again be the Albert Hansell voyage. You may have glimpses along the journey of your life that seem somehow familiar- the unenlightened refer to these as deja-vu."

The actor stood, walking forward to gaze into the eternal vastness of space."I assure you there is no danger, sir. I have made the journey numerous times myself. In the attempt to destroy the Red Heron's vile plan aboard the Hansell, I have been transported nearly a dozen times. Unfortunately, I can not be transported with any knowledge of the actual intent of the League of Mudcat, and my motives are related to some cryptic information passed from other sources. I have been thwarted every time, often by my own unconscious actions." Leej lit a long dark cigar."Care for one? These are Cuban, late 1700's, before the heavy soil depletion." DeMornay shook his head.Leej lit the cigar, continuing " or we can transport you to another time and place altogether. Say, London circa 1600. Would you like to meet Shakespeare, Burbage, Marlowe? Say the word my friend."


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 01:48 PM

"Deja-vu" repeated DeMornay."I am in fact, Commander, experiencing some measure of that eerie phenomenon at this moment." Leej smiled, saying " And no wonder. We have stood here before while you weighed my proposition." De Mornay turned with a quizzical look. "And what was my decision?" Leej glanced at the pocket watch which hung inconguously from the pocket of his metallic trousers. "Sorry, Cassius. To tell you that would violate the BRC...Basic rules of Continuity." Leej smiled." The great trauma of your life was the death of the great man Lincoln. Would it sooth you to know that he availed himself of our services? That he was transported into the life of a Senator in the Roman Republic, some 100 years before Christ?" DeMornay stared at Leej in confusion.

"Time wastes, Cassius," said Leej,"and my consciousness is due back on the Hansell momentarily, as certain important events are about to transpire. Again, I must ask that you choose your destiny."


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Caitrin
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 01:54 PM

"He's dead, Lor." Laz said, stepping away from the body of the actor.
Lor continued to hold the gun on the Red Heron. Now was not the time for games. There was no need for all that ridiculous "Tell me about your evil nefarious plan" bullshit. She fired.
The Red Heron never could have won. He was a madman, believing himself in control of fate. But in truth, he was the fool. The Heron had believed that his little "switch" number had actually worked. But the question still remained...Who was the Red Heron?
"Better take him above, Lor." Laz said. "We've got to find out who this joker is and get everybody back to the time they belong in."


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Peter T.
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 02:30 PM

"Thank you Commander for your graceful offer," said de Mornay, still gazing out. "I am I think bound to decline, to whatever purpose or to what place that that declination imprisons me. I would not be who I am if it were not for my memory, nor would I foreswear the magic moments of being that have forever enshrined in my heart the love of a woman who I have learned, too late, while I have made myself motley to the view, was all my desire. I would not for the world give up that past, foolish though it was. It can never be again the way it was: even I know that time does not betray itself that much, however much ridiculous humanity has learned to play with it. That she lives, that she loved me once as I am, what more can a man ask of his own life? Whatever others may do, and though I have been mostly a mask, mostly a facade, there is that within which passeth show, these but the trappings and the suits of -- well, you know the rest."

And further, apart from all, I believe that the Red Heron knows that I have survived, thanks to your great kindness, and that he will seek me out in one of his many guises, and that somehow he will be put an end to -- not by me, but by that other you and I have spent so much to protect. So...." he shrugged. "I must perforce try what I can do, here and in this now."

The two comrades in arms shook hands, and Commander Leej said: "Well, then, I commend you into the hands of the League of the Mudcat. They are endlessly hospitable." He turned, and began to dissolve. "Oh, de Mornay, one last thing. Remember that Caesar in Baltimore? That was the best thing I have ever seen."

De Mornay replied: "It was the most responsive audience, sir. We need each other, actor and audien--" but Commander Leej, and the great League ship, the Streamboat of Time, had already gone down, down, down into the river of destiny once more.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 02:44 PM

In-fockin-credible!! Are you two guys writing from the same mothership or something? You sound like a bonded pair of telepathic birth twins, or Huey, Dewey, and Louie!


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: MMario
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 02:47 PM

AHA! Peter T, Leej and Caitrin are ALL THE SAME PERSON!!!!


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Peter T.
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 02:48 PM

[And where is Charles Delacroix, eh?]


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 02:48 PM

AND they're the Red Heron!


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 03:15 PM

Charles Delacroix, river boat gambler, leaned over the prom deck rail on the Hansell, watched the boarding of the rag tag children, and then shifted his attention to the lithe form of the mysterious and beautiful Mojo Woman, who also watched the boarding of the young people, the casting off of the breast lines, and the delicate manuvering as the great river boat was again taken up by the might currents of the river and began her way through Kentuck waters toward the inevitable fate which awaited her. He thought of his twins, wondered where they were in space and time, and remembered the love he had felt coursing through him for a brief period during the overwhelming revelations the brujita had poured into him. Something had changed, of that there was no doubt. Where once his greatest ambition had been to survive enough card sessions to retire to a small plantation in Orleans county, he knew now that he had not been truly seeing the future; that he was no longer prepared to cut a hard living from the desperate faces and hard whiskey of saloons, salon cars and river boat saloons. He found himself, instead, transported to a time in the future when all that lay well behind him, and his attention gradually submerged to the vision. He saw himself traveling West, following the traces of the gold hunters...perhaps writing for a newspaper...He saw himself, later, advanced in years, living in a quiet urbane elegance, his hair and moustache quite white, perhaps a cane, but still full of bristle, wit, and irony. He saw himself, from there, looking down the long line of his heirs and their futures, his beautiful grandchildren growing, themselves, to young adulthood -- one marrying the oldest grandson of an old hill farmer he had met in Missouri -- what was that man's name? Credence Hainlin? No...something more Dutch or German...Heinlein? That sounded right...and having their own children, naval officers and engineers for the new muscles of a rising young nation...

He saw another beautiful redhaired girl growing of age and traveling to far Texas, marrying into a clan named Whipp, and a third settling in ranch country in the north, around Hibbing. In his mind's eye the river of his future generations, from his own place as a sextagenarian, unfolded through the decades, full of joys, pains, losses and triumphs.

He saw himself sit down before a desk, put his cane aside, and draw out a steel-pointed pen to put the final notes on a manuscript...the title page clear in his daydream as though it was in his hand..."Life on the Mississippi".


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 03:37 PM

Leej came to with a sudden start. He was standing watching the churn of the great paddlewheel, his wrists in chains, a smoking cigar clenched in his teeth. He would have to talk to Dr Benoit about these fits of blacking out, as they seemed to be getting worse. He glanced at the pocket watch...some fifteen minutes had elapsed without his being conscious of them. He fumbled between the buttons of his shirt. The Medallion was still there. Behind him he heard a burst of glad speech and laughter. He turned to see the Deckhand smiling at several passengers and crewmen, that is, until the wounded man caught his eye. Leej's surge of relief was tempered by fear as the tall, powerful youth strode toward him.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 07:17 PM

Jeremy, worn from the wild ride on a stolen stallion, flushed with his success at regaining the deck of the Albert Hansell (which for some reason he could not explain had been a goal of almost obsessive importance to him since the night he was shot) strode up to the manacled and wary-looking riverrat on the quarterdeck. He seized him by the collar, and boldly made him stand; and he stared deep into his eyes with outrage and fury and hurt curiousity battling for dominance in his angry stare.

"You short-backed spineless no-good spawn of a snappin' turtle, if I had half a brain Ah'd throw you right into that wheel! What the hail you thik yore doin' shootin me like that! Ya tried to kill me, you goldern polecat! "

Leej, taken aback by the bright unabated fury of the younger man, nevertheless maintained his composure.

"Wouldn't do to go murdering a manacled man, Piedmont. What I did, I had to do; and if you'd known what I know, youda done the same, willy or nilly. I bore you no anger, but there was more at stake than you an' me. An' there is still, Mister Fontaine Neufchat Piedmont. There is still. P'raps you would be willing to listen before you lash outin your righteous anger."

The youth, his angry arm still tensed with adrenalin, started at the sound of his full name and drew his prisoner closer with an sudden twist of his muscled wrist.

"Mister, you better talk, an' talk fast; I still have half a mind to make mudcat food outta yew, but I'll give you wore one chance; no-one kin say Ah'm not fair. "

"With any luck, you will make Mudcat fare out of me soon enough, young man. ANd here is what you don't know about your gracious cousin and your ancestors on the Neufchat side of the family. "

He lowered his head in a conspiratorial whisper and spoe softly to the young man for several minutes. The youth's arm relaxed and he let go of Leej's collar and stared, his mouth agape, asking bewildered questions and listening intently. FInally, he nodded, as though he finally understood and accepted what he was being told there in the shadows of the quarterdeck, and he seemed to sigh, and straighten. He held out his hand, and Leej fumbled under his sweat-stained shirt and with a grimace of regret and profound relief, dropped into his hand the burden he had carried too long. Jeremey stared, trembling with awe, as he watched the late afternoon sun bring raw fiery highlights across the shiny, bejewelled face of the Last Medallion.

He turned, leaving Leej in his manacles and ran down the quarterdeck and up the companionway, looking for a riverboat gambler, and a Louisiana belle on whom pivoted more historythan his poor head could imagine.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Barky
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 10:42 PM

Miss Montesquiue relaxed in a deck chair, next to the one she loved, sipping a whiskey, hard up, on the rocks. She seemed envigorated after the ride and vowed to work out more in the Hansell's fully equipped weight room.

Barkesque Montesquiue was the daughter of the late Count of Monte Squiue-o, a town which was named after the second cousin (thrice removed) of Krist, the man whom the town Monte Cristo was named after (They just messed up the spelling on the maps). (No, not Christ, Krist. HUGE difference) Her father was Bonivelo Montesquiue, grandson of the original count, Sir Ivanna Skrew. The spelling was changed, and the "r" was lost do to miss pronunciations and people thinking it was a, shall we say... distasteful sounding name. Count Montesquiue (as it eventually became) became rich through betting when he was older, and taking other kids' lunch money in the lunch line when he was much, much younger. He put all of his ill gotten gains into the bank at a whopping 18% annual intrest rate, and made a fortune. Anyone would say he was one of the five richest men in the world. When he passed away, he gave all his money to his daughter, who then became the richest WOman in the world. This woman, of course, was Barkesque "Barky" Montesquiue.

"Whell Ah declaiah! This weathah' is jus' perfect!" Stated Miss Montesquiue. "Ah don't know ma'am," grimaced the deckhand,"See those high cumulous clouds? I think we're in fo' some bad weatha', an' soon!"

~Barky


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Mbo
Date: 17 Apr 00 - 11:51 PM

"Too late, ladies!" said a heavily accented voice. From behind an Mark 2 antimatter containment barrel stood, in all his glory, a smallish man with dark sunglasses, cuban heels, and a flower print shirt, and the biggest blinkin' phaser rifle in existence. "And just WHO are you?" asked Lor & Laz skeptically, but at the same time wary of the big gun pointed at them. "I am Lauro Alba, Executor Officiale, of the League of Filipino Classical Guitar Instructors! And by the sacred names of Villa-Lobos, Torroba, and Albeniz, I blasteth thee!" With out blinking and eye, Mr. Alba blasted the twins--the photonic energy discharge ripped through them, exposing a sparking mess of wires and circuits. "Ha!" He thought. "That's then end of THEM, now to find the REAL twins!"

--Mbo


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: katlaughing
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 12:17 AM

Miss Sara Belle Fontaine, late of the Albert Haskell, generally of Baton Rouge, but slowly starting to remember another name, something mirthful and feline, rocked back and forth in the chair beside Mr. Spaw's bed at the EnWhyCeeEffTeeTeeEss, and hummed a lullabye, siping at a mug of mint tea, poor imitation though it was for a mint julep.


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 01:27 AM

In the Cabin of the Mudcat Time Fleet's Neil Young Flagship, Leej reappeared just in time to knock the ash off his cigar into the ornate carnival-glass ashtray that was inscribed Vicksburg: Pearl of the Mississippi. A sealed envelope lay on his desk. He broke the wax seal and read the missive.

" Commander Robert E Leej
Aboard the Neil Young

Congratulations sir, we have at long last accomplished our mission of eliminating the Red Herons. Now the universe is at last safe for the Good and the True, for the Blues and the Folk, for the Banjo and the Zither. The Music will no longer be buffeted or repressed, but shall spread throughout all of the known worlds, from Seegernia to The Moons of Howlin' Wolf. Our Children shall shake off the chains of meaningless and mechanical noise, and shall know the wisdom of the Human Heart. Let the tiple ring out the gladsome news!

Sincerely,

Maximillian XV

PS. We are in receipt of a certain Mr DeMornay, who has promised to treat us all to several excerpts from the Midsummer Night's Dream on the Fleet's return."

Leej was determined to visit Catspaugh in the Recovery Ward, and explain everything to him over cigars and brandy, but just for a moment he savored the victory. Leej spoke quietly into the stillness of the ship, made more profound by the mighty and endless chasm of stars that surrounded it."Lorena" he said. The music rose softly, enveloping him. Through moist eyes he looked at the old, faded photograph that hung upon the wall: The one of an ancient steamboat that had long since ceased to be.

The story of the past, Lorena, Alas! I care not to repeat; The hopes that could not last, Lorena, They lived, but only lived to cheat. I would not cause e'en one regret _ To rankle in your bosom now--- "For if we try we may forget," Were words of thine long years ago.

LEJ


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: katlaughing
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 03:03 AM

BRAVO!!!! damn near speechless at that wrap-up, LeeJ! Looks as though we now know what the next *vehicle* will be. You guys are brill! So we shall boldly go where no Mudcatters have gone before??


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Mbo
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 08:42 AM

"Oh what a lucky boy am I!" thought Slick Philly Matt as he drifted off to sleep in his chaise lounge on the deck. "I've got my girl, who could ask for anything moooooooorrre...."

--Slick Philly Matt


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 09:02 AM

In the pale sunlight of a fine Spring morning, the Gambler and the Mojo Woman walked down the ramp onto the huge wooden landing quai that buffeted the timeless waters of the Mississippi for the City of New Orleans. She was dressed in finery, a parasol under her arm, a fine poplin suit looking like finely-stirred vanilla brandy clothing her lithe form. They waved to their companions of so many miles and centuries, tipped the Deckhand, made their farewells to the brave Mate -- now Master -- of the Albert Hansell and strolled along the busy waterfront and into the French Quarter.
They took an outside table, order beignets and au lait, and waited. The Gambler paused in his conversation to let the memories of the long river trip re-sort themselves one more time -- the ordinary and the incredible interweaving in time, dimensions of the past and future coiling and springing -- it had been a hell of a trip, for certain. He smiled affectionately at his companion.



"It has been intersting, I'll say that."

"I never imagined that young Jeremy would havebeen the trigger of so many infoldings. When he broughtme that medallion, I knew exactly where things stood and saw it clearly. It was amatter of a moment's work to activate it, and the way time unwarped when th epower of that infernal device started humming, you'd a thought a gale was brewing right their in that cabin. The Herons couldn't stand the stresses -- they must have deconstructed right in mid-syllable up and down the temporal Mississippi, clear into the 35th century!"

"What did you do with that beautiful medallion?", she asked.

"Well, of course, I have dispatched it to Baton Rouge. It is the repository of Miss Sarah Belle's future fortunes. She may need it if they let her out of that Bedlam she is taking the waters at."

He looked down the street and smiled.

"Ahh! Our appointment arrives! Delightful".

Two beautiful red-headed women, turned out in fashionplate, approached their table smiling.

"Hello, Ma!" "Hello, Paw!", they chorused. They took seats across from the Gambler and the Mojo Woman, and babbled happily about their adventures. After a while, all tales had been exchanged, the au laits refilled a fourth time, and the beignets consumed. The busy bustle of a New Orleans morning on the river clattered around them; but they heard only what was in each others' eyes, the four of them tied irrevocably and inseparably together by the very fabric of time and life.

"Alright, family," the Gambler said gruffly. "Here's the plan for Californiay. Now, listen up!...."

And the spring sunlight of a New Orleans morning made everything warm, while the mighty river rolled on, and on, and on.

000000000000----------FINIS-----------0000000000000000


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Caitrin
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 09:47 AM

Wow! That was great! I didn't think anything could top the juke joint thread...but that was awesome!
Now I'm signing on as navigator for the USS Mudcat Enterprise. Klingons and Romulans beware!! We have banjos!


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 10:11 AM

I cannot leave this incredible idyll without saying thank you to you amazing, powerful, inspired Mudcatters. LEJ, Peter T., Spaw, Caitrin, Jen, Barky, Mbo, DTAM, katLady, MMario...all of you...this has been a really wonderful journey. Forgive me my anachronistic clippages and my typos, and my blundering into your finespun visions; and thank you for the warmth, wit, craft, brilliant creativity and power of your many many words. Thanks, pals -- it's been Real.

Charles Stonewall Delacroix
Gambler


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: GUEST,THE RED HERON
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 10:48 AM

FOOLS!!!!YOU THINK THIS IS THE END?
Maximilian XV!!! And that dolt de Mornay? Deluded, all deluded charlatans!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAA!!!!! (Enjoy this brief absurd interlude, insignificant bewhiskered bottomdwellers!!!!!). We meet again!!!!!!!!!!

cordially yours, THE RED HERON


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 11:02 AM

"HE sure talks funny for a stick-legged bird, don't he? Say, Jim, I reckon we could have a fine dinner tonight iffen you hand me that heaving line...see, this here monkey fist at one end's gotta lead weight in it. I think if I heave it jes' right -- get that Barlow knife ready -- gotta git his ankles, see, steady now....GOT 'IM!!!! DANG!! We gonna eat high on the hawg tonight Jim! jes' cut his throat there real quick ... thassit. BIle'em up and pluck them feathers, now Jim, an we'll have us a feast!...."


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: GUEST,THE RED HERON
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 11:12 AM

MOCKERS! I bathe in the refreshing pool of anticipating what will be done with you when our paths cross again. I note in passing that for such self-righteous beings, your treatment of wading birds is somewhat suspect. But I digress -- YOU ARE DOOMED!!!!!HAHAHAHAHA!! DESTINY IS NOT MOCKED!
Cordially yours, THE RED HERON


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 11:28 AM

Dear Red:

Destiny, as you say, is not mocked. But in your case, it mocks itself. See you on the next thread, jerk!! This one is completed.

Delacroix


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: GUEST,THE RED HERON
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 11:38 AM

After you....
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Maximilian XV, what a boob.....(sorry, where was I....)
cordially yours, THE RED HERON


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Caitrin
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 11:48 AM

Now, Amos. Let him have his "echo of mocking, evil laughter, fading in the distance." Every villain gets his or her opportunity for a good "mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!"


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Amos
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 11:52 AM

Aw, shucks, C....okay. Mwhahaha it is, then. Back to Cosmology 101...


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: GUEST,JenEllen
Date: 18 Apr 00 - 12:46 PM

Under the broad branches of an ancient maple tree in the garden of the NYC, there stirs a slight form wrapped in a frayed blanket. Her nap in the morning sun peppered with dreams, and her blanket peppered with droppings from the crow that sat on her shoulder.
She dreamily pulls the blanket up a little tighter around her shoulders, sips a cooling au lait, and begins to sing to herself "California here I come...."
~Mojo

WONDERFUL FOLKS! Thanks to all for the creation.~Elle


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Subject: RE: TAVERN STEAMBOAT Albert Hansell - Part 4
From: Charley Noble
Date: 18 Dec 15 - 10:27 AM

But where's the song that pulls this wonderful thread(s) together?

Charlie Ipcar


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